


Spellbound

by Liinchen_Queenii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Atsumu is a good boy, BDSM, Consent is Sexy, Dom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Handcuffs, Implied Dacryphilia, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shibari, Sub Miya Atsumu, safe wording
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 19:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liinchen_Queenii/pseuds/Liinchen_Queenii
Summary: Kiyoomi’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh slapping sound of skin against skin diluting inside their bedroom.“You’re doing so well, Atsumu. So, so well for me. I’m so, so proud. You can do this for me, I know it. You’re my good boy.”
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 284





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> You're probably here to sin, aren't you? 
> 
> Welcome to 3k words of fully self-indulged porn with feelings, I hope you're ready to go down the kinky road with me and have as much fun as I had while writing.  
> I don't want to keep you waiting much longer than necessary but a big shoutout goes to the amazing souls beta-reading this piece. Rune, Aleks, Vane, Loh — you all are heaven-sent and made this fic so much better ❤ Thank you for bearing with this hot mess of a writing attempt. 
> 
> Special thanks to Chaz, who kept up with my yelling for days without even knowing what I'm doing 💞  
> And all the love I have to offer goes out to Babe, who's always there to support me and pick me up. Without your encouragement, I would've stopped writing years ago 💖

The scene is set. Last rays of afternoon sun prickle through half-drawn curtains, forming a halo around Kiyoomi’s back. He’s looming over Atsumu who’s tied to their bed, donning his favourite fur-lined leather cuffs. Slim fingers dance between frames of dark rope, drawing lazy circles on strong thighs. 

_“Haaaah…”_

The headboard creaks.   
A smile edges the corners of Kiyoomi’s lips. Atsumu is so endearingly sensitive, stirring Kiyoomi’s inner predator to the surface with each graze of skin. _Mhhhhh_ … how much Kiyoomi aches to sink his teeth into his lover’s pale tender flesh, to leave marks that brand Atsumu as his own.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, his tongue glides over his lips. Atsumu’s hazy eyes track Kiyoomi’s every movement, and **oh** , he’s so fun to play with, such a good boy for Kiyoomi. The thrill at seeing the tremors wracking Atsumu’s body shoots right down to his quickly hardening cock.

Some primal part of his brain takes over, finding dirty pleasure in Atsumu’s desperate, longing gaze, and in some act of feverish joy Kiyoomi starts running his hands over his own naked torso until his fingers tug at the belt of his dress pants.   
Atsumu groans at the sight - eyes blazing like he’s looking at the cursed apple dangling from the tree in the garden of eden. This apple, it’s tempting but damned and one should know better than to crave it.

Cute. Kiyoomi can’t help but lick his lips, taking his sweet time, dragging his tongue consciously slow, while savouring the view. 

_“Hmmmm...”_

Atsumu’s chest heaves, the ropes straining around him with every sharp, heavy breath. It’s so alluring that Kiyoomi follows his own desire and palms himself through his pants.

_“Omiiii…”_

Satisfying. It’s a whine that sparks the animal inside him. Atsumu has been _so_ good, it might be time to give him a little reward. His partner is always so eager to fully concede his control, to give him all the reactions he wants, to entrust his body and mind to Kiyoomi, knowing he’ll be well taken care of — ensuring that his trust is reciprocated is one of Kiyoomi’s greatest pleasures.

He leans forward, hands hovering over Atsumu’s roped legs, ankles beautifully tied to his thighs in a spiraled futomoto. It’s an endless moment and Atsumu stills, his whole body thrumming in anticipation — then Kiyoomi’s finger dips to graze the jute, making sure the pressure is felt through the rope, drifting upwards in one fluid motion.   
Atsumu shudders, hips bucking forward in an attempt to lean into Kiyoomi’s phantom touch. 

“Who told you to move?”

Kiyoomi’s voice, while barely spoken above a whisper, is dark and rich. Commanding and vaguely threatening.   
Caught red-handed, Atsumu’s eyes go wide as he realizes his mistake, body going limp and a flush dusting his cheeks at the rebuke.

“This is your only warning, Atsumu.”

Just like that, Kiyoomi pulls his fingers away, leaving Atsumu unattended for a fracture of a breathless moment. He’s utterly pleased at the agony he finds on Atsumu’s face, gaze beseeching. _I’m a good boy, I can still be your good boy. Omi, please._

Sighing, Kiyoomi leans in again, closing the gap between their bodies and grabbing a fistful of the bleached mop. Tugging hard, Atsumu’s head falls to the side, and Kiyoomi takes full advantage of it by nipping at his exposed lobe. He hears Atsumu sucking in a breath through his teeth. _Good._

“And here I was just about to reward you.”

It’s a low, wet whisper against the shell of Atsumu’s ear. Atsumu draws in another breath through gritted teeth. 

“Do you still want it?”

No answer. 

“Do you still think you deserve it?”

No answer. 

_Good. Good. Good._

Kiyoomi draws back a little to take in Atsumu’s form, eyeing him up and down to make sure he’s alright. Observing him, he finds Atsumu’s jaw is clenched, his whole body tense.

“Colour?”

_“Green.”_

Atsumu’s voice is a sigh, almost dreamy.   
Shit. Kiyoomi feels his cock twitch against the zipper of his pants. It’s not discomfort in Atsumu’s posture, only yearning and obedience. A second glance confirms his assumption. Atsumu’s erection looks painfully hard, tip cherry red and glistening with precum.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Atsumu is perfect, so perfect for him, Kiyoomi’s pulse thunders in his ears, heart throbbing with an all-encompassing need. He knows, _god he knows_ , this Atsumu is so different from the boisterous, demanding Miya the rest of the world gets to see, and it’s _all_ for him. Only for him. Atsumu surrenders completely, leaving the stimulation of his body and mind in Kiyoomi’s care, a delicious combination of power and trust.   
Thrilled, Kiyoomi loosens his grip, letting his hand ghost down Atsumu’s jaw, hooking his thumb on his lover’s bottom lip. He takes a moment, drunk on the glassy hazel eyes staring back at him, pupils blown wide in a daze of primal pleasure.

Slowly, Kiyoomi slides his thumb inside, accompanied by two more digits. Atsumu doesn’t make a move, only letting his master feel the texture of his wet, slippery tongue. Kiyoomi has to fight the smile threatening to overtake his lips, but manages to school his expression into that of nonchalance, before giving out his next order. 

“Suck.”

It doesn’t even take a second for his fingers to be coated in hot saliva. Atsumu swirls his tongue around the digits like his life depends on it.   
A pleased groan rumbles in Kiyoomi’s chest, and he finds himself closing the gap again, threading his free hand tenderly through blond strands. 

“Good boy. You’re doing so well for me.”

Atsumu’s dick twitches in his peripherals, and Kiyoomi can’t help but abandon all careful touches and run his hand over damp skin, cascading until it’s journey halts at Atsumu’s side.  
Patting his flank, he feels a moan form around his moist fingers, tongue flicking them each individually. Good boys deserve a treat and so Kiyoomi grabs Atsumu’s length, letting his thumb run over its angry head and pressing into the slit. 

_“...hmmiiii.”_

He feels another moan form in Atsumu’s mouth and pulls away completely. Atsumu whines at the loss. It serves as the perfect background noise as Kiyoomi marvels at the strand of saliva still connecting his index finger with his partner’s lips. 

“What do you want?”

Atsumu’s eyes search Kiyoomi’s for a moment, as if waiting for confirmation to speak. _Heavens_ , Miya Atsumu will be his death one day and he’s unashamed to admit that he cannot wait for it. 

“Tell me what you want me to do. What do you want from me?”

Kiyoomi’s voice is as clean-cut as his gaze. Cold and demanding. 

_“Omiii.”_

Atsumu mewls. 

“Whole sentences, Atsu. I can’t understand you.”

_“Omi. I want Omi, I want ya.”_

Atsumu tries — really tries hard — to form a coherent sentence, voice getting more desperate with each syllable spoken. 

“And where do you want me?”

_“Inside, I want ya inside. Omi, please… please... I need ya.”_

“Mhhh… is that so?”

Kiyoomi hums indifferently, both hands now dropping to Atsumu’s thighs, feathering over the patches of skin. Atsumu whimpers and Kiyoomi contemplates for a second before he digs roughly into the muscles, dragging his lover’s legs up and pressing them to either side of Atsumu’s torso. 

_“Omiiiii—”_

“Shhh. You’re doing great, Atsu.”

His eyes land on Atsumu’s hole and erection, now on full display and Kiyoomi’s voice comes out an octave lower than intended, almost failing to hide his own greed. 

As if drawn by a magnet, Kiyoomi’s hands twitch, eager to start feeling his lover out, play with his rim and sink his fingers deep inside. Mischief licks in the corners of his mind at the thought of teasing his precious little doll, but before he’s even able to reach, Atsumu’s hole trembles.

“Look at how much of a dirty slut you are, already clenching when I’m not even there. Not even a finger. Just the thought of me playing with your rim has you twitching. Will you be even able to make it? We need to stretch you first. I’ll have to finger you until you're wide and open for me… ahh… you did it again.”

The look Atsumu gives Kiyoomi is absolutely horrified, knowing his body is not under his control. He flushes a violent red. 

“Hmmm… I’m not so sure, we agreed that you’ll make me come first today, Atsu. And —” without warning, Kiyoomi grabs Atsumu’s dick “you’re already so hard and sensitive. I haven’t even started yet, and look how your dick is already squirming in my hand. **Whore**. You’re so eager to have me, you say you want me, but just the thought of me, just the touch of my hand seems to be enough. Frankly, I’m a bit disa—”

_“Omi, no! Please. No. Fuck.”_

A sharp black eyebrow curves upwards on Kiyoomi‘s elegant forehead. 

“Did you just _curse_ at me?”

Atsumu’s face goes pale, his thoughts catching up to his actions. He shakes his head frantically. 

_“No. No. No. Please, Omiiiiii —''_ he whines when Kiyoomi gives his cock a dry rub. _“Omi. I’ll be good. I’ll make ya come. Promise. Promise. Promise.”_

“Are you sure?”

Atsumu nods so fast his neck cracks. 

“Are you really sure?”

Moving closer, Kiyoomi starts to rub his clothed erection against Atsumu’s begging hole. He almost laughs when he starts to feel a quiver wrack through Atsumu, but his good boy seems dedicated to pulling himself together, clenching every muscle in his body to stay as still as possible. 

“Who do you belong to?”

Not stopping his onslaught, Kiyoomi keeps grinding, waiting for an answer. 

_“Omiii… yo-u… Kiyoooomiii...”_

Words dripping honey on his soul, mouthwatering sweet, Kiyoomi crashes their lips together, mapping out every inch of Atsumu’s mouth. He takes complete control, swallowing Atsumu’s moans until his doll is left breathless, panting heavily into their kiss. Pleased, Kiyoomi pulls away whispering sugary praise. 

“That’s my good boy. You’re doing so well for me. Colour?”

_“Green. Green. Green.”_

With a _zip_ , Kiyoomi’s own painful erection finally springs free, and he reaches for the bedside table, getting a few pumps of lube and warming it in his hands before he slips a finger inside Atsumu. 

_“Omi. Omi. Omi.”_

It’s a chant, a holy prayer, while he works Atsumu’s hole.

One. 

_“Omiii~”_

Two. 

_“mmmhhhiii…_ ”

Three fingers. 

_“yooohhmmmiiii”_

Until he’s fully prepped. 

“You’re taking my fingers so well. You’re trying to stay calm for me. You’re such a good boy, Atsu. You deserve this, you deserve my cock.”

Atsumu’s bleary eyes crack open, brimming with foggy happiness, and Kiyoomi gives his prostate one last press, drawing a high-pitched wail from his partner before he aligns himself and sinks in hilt deep on the first thrust. 

“Fuck.”

_“Shit.”_

Both groan with sick pleasure, pace merciless from the start. Kiyoomi pumps _in_ and _out, in_ and _out, in_ and _out_. Atsumu shakes like a ragdoll. In an attempt to steady himself, he digs his fingers ruthlessly into Atsumu’s legs and Atsumu screams in euphoric delight.

An iron taste floods Kiyoomi’s mouth. He’s chewing on his lip, biting to not fully lose himself in Atsumu’s heat. Eyes rake Atsumu’s body, ravish him, savor him, feast on him. Kiyoomi wants to devour him whole.   
Atsumu is panting, breath coming in short huffs mixed with grunted moans and lazy vowels. His head is thrown back, tongue lolling out, drool trickling down his chin. It’s obscene, dirty, raw —he’s falling apart with each thrust and Kiyoomi has the unyielding urge to wreck him. He’s high on this, high on their play, high on Atsumu — how lucky can he be?

One of Kiyoomi’s hands grips Atsumu’s length again, while the other steadily wanders upwards. His partner cries out loud, eyes snapping open, a display of panic and pleasure. Elegant fingers enforce their hold around Atsumu’s pretty, leaking dick and start stroking, setting a restless pace matching that of Kiyoomi’s hips. 

“Haaaaaaahhhh… ughhh…”

There’s another cry, and Atsumu’s pupils grow impossibly wider, black devouring gold almost completely. Atsumu’s bottom lip starts to quiver, and Kiyoomi can’t help but lick over his own lips again and again. _This_ is delicious.

Suddenly, there’s a stutter in Atsumu’s body shaking him wholly. Kiyoomi knows Atsumu’s tells, knows that Atsumu almost came but like the good plaything he is, he stopped himself. Internally, he applauds Atsumu for this act of self-restraint, not being sure if he would’ve been able to pull it off. He makes a mental note to give Atsumu an extra reward later. However merciful his thoughts, his demeanor isn’t, and so Kiyoomi leans in, wandering hand now clasped around his lover’s neck. Kiyoomi’s hips still snap at an iron set pace, and he continues to give Atsumu’s cock bittersweet attention, it’s all too much. Atsumu moans with each deep hit — so obviously overwhelmed with pleasure — when Kiyoomi grunts and leans down to whisper low against Atsumu’s ear. 

“You’re _not_ allowed to come yet. Do you hear me?”

Atsumu’s body shifts a little, but there’s no reaction. Kiyoomi rubs his thumb over the slit of Atsumu’s dick, then presses hard. 

“I said, do you hear me?”

A broken sob rips the air between them followed by another shudder in Atsumu’s body. 

_“Ye-s… won’t— come. Be… go-od.”_

The words are slurred, raw, hushed through clenched teeth that look like they’re about to crack any second.

A wave of warmth washes over Kiyoomi, rolling out through his veins, trickling through the ends of his being. How could he deserve a partner, _a lover_ , like Atsumu? This feeling, like floating, it’s almost too much yet never enough. Kiyoomi is a starved man, desiring nothing more than to fill all of his senses with Miya Atsumu. Atsumu is giving him so much, and he wants to make sure that he gives just as much back, possibly even more. He wants Atsumu to be happy, to be loved, to be satisfied. If Kiyoomi hadn’t been burning before, now he’s set on fire. He wants them to be good, wants _this_ to be good.

Kiyoomi’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh slapping sound of skin against skin diluting inside their bedroom. 

“You’re doing so well, Atsumu. So, so well for me. I’m so, so proud. You can do this for me, I know it. You’re my good boy.”

Magically, it’s like a spell taking effect on Atsumu, making him clench so hard around Kiyoomi that he falters in his thrusts. Atsumu breaks. Shatters. Right underneath Kiyoomi’s words. Broken sobs rattle the air, accompanied by thick tears spilling from the corners of Atsumu’s eyes. They roll slowly, glistening down his cheeks, dripping onto his collarbone.

A deep shudder vibrates through Kiyoomi, he’s electrified. This is beautiful, Atsumu is so beautiful. Kiyoomi’s hips slam harder into the constraint of Atsumu’s tight walls causing the blond to cry out louder.

Electricity slips down, pooling into a familiar coil, but Kiyoomi wants to revel in this moment just a little bit longer. An eternity. A minute. A second. Anything is fine as long as he can stay inside this lucid dream for just a heartbeat longer. 

Without a second thought, he dips his head low. Tongue brushes against the hot skin of Atsumu’s cheek tracing the bed of tears. Kiyoomi is slow, meticulous, relishing the salty taste like he’s drinking fine, aged wine making sure to clean off every drop as best as he can. He pulls back slightly, their noses now almost touching. Atsumu is still sobbing, albeit quieter. Hazel eyes are completely glazed with the faintest sign of a smile tugging on the corner of Atsumu’s mouth.   
Shit. Shit. Shit. Atsumu looks fucked in the best way possible, but he _needs_ to know.

“Colour?”

_“Greengreengreenpleaseplease — p-lease—”_

Atsumu stammers, almost choking on his words, and Kiyoomi’s thoughts tumble. The headboard creaks, together with the whole bed, and the cuffs restraining his lover screak as they desperately try to hold against the sheer force of this assault.

Kiyoomi pounds Atsumu so hard, he feels as though he might split him in half, but Atsumu doesn’t break. Instead, he wails, moaning Kiyoomi’s name like it’s the only word he knows.

White flashes behind Kiyoomi’s eyes, he comes so hard, he’s seeing stars. One hand slams forcefully against the wooden frame of their bed, steadying himself, while he thrusts through his orgasm. His other hand, still snug against Atsumu’s dick, keeps stroking his partner and in a faint corner of his post orgasm bliss, he registers a significant amount of hot slick wetting his touch. It’s not enough yet to be Atsumu’s full release, and Kiyoomi pulls himself together because his love earned his treat today, for sure. 

“Come for me, Atsumu. Come.”

His words are a sonorous rasp, the best Kiyoomi can muster with his haywire mind but it’s enough to tip Atsumu over the edge. One last breathless _“Omi”_ and sticky release shoots up, coating both of their chests. Kiyoomi makes sure to fuck Atsumu through his high, gently stroking out his last waves of pleasure and capturing Atsumu’s lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

Outside, the sun is long gone, replaced by a night that’s sprinkled with stars. The signature tint of street lights now trickles through the curtains and long shadows stretch inside the room.   
When Kiyoomi is sure his lover is comfortably floating in his bliss, he makes quick work to untie Atsumu’s hands and legs. There’s a low whimper, and Kiyoomi tenderly reclines Atsumu onto the sheets. 

“Shh, shhh. It’s all good. You did so well today, love.”

Time starts to shift, no harsh words, no brute touches. What’s to come is all about Kiyoomi’s devotion towards Atsumu and the responsibility he carries.

Thoroughly, he checks Atsumu for injuries and carefully starts rubbing feeling back into his wrists, calves and thighs. Kiyoomi’s fingers are gentle and warm, pressing soothingly but without ever hurting. Midway, he catches Atsumu’s gaze, who’s slowly coming down. 

“Are you okay, love? Anything hurting? Anything uncomfortable?”

Atsumu shakes his head, giving him a small, throaty _no_.

Smiling, Kiyoomi kisses Atsumu’s forehead softly, whispering “I’ll be right back” before he slips from their bed and gets a hot towel to clean them both.  
All touches are soft, executed with care and affection. When Kiyoomi is done wiping Atsumu and applying some aloe cream, he wraps him into a cozy, big blanket and offers him some water which he gladly accepts.

Settling Atsumu back, Kiyoomi shuffles closer, and Atsumu immediately melts into him with a contended huff. The only sound to be heard is their slow, steady breathing and the crinkle of fabric, while Kiyoomi caresses Atsumu’s body as far as he can reach. Diligently, Kiyoomi makes sure to stay in contact, Atsumu nestled into his side, to assure Atsumu that he’s there, even without words.

Little by little, Atsumu comes back to this realm, and Kiyoomi takes him to the shower, making sure they’re both completely clean and warm. Their aftercare is usually quiet but also very intimate. Kiyoomi ensures that Atsumu is fine, that he’s not hurt, that he’s tended to. Kiyoomi takes full responsibility, and he does so with pride and love. He knows this level of trust is fragile and not to be taken for granted. 

It’s in those minutes languidly oozing into each other when he gets overwhelmed by all the adoration and love he has for his partner. Atsumu is perfect for him. His perfect teammate. His perfect friend. His perfect lover. He permeates Kiyoomi’s ego and his pride, seeps into his skin, lingers there, and makes a home inside his heart.

They’re tucked together now underneath the comfort of their blanket, Atsumu dressed in one of Kiyoomi’s shirts and a soft pair of sweatpants. His head is perfectly settled on Kiyoomi’s chest, limbs intertwined. The dream, Kiyoomi realises, never stopped. The spell never broke, only transformed into something more unhurried, more relaxing.   
While drawing absentminded patterns on Atsumu’s arm, Kiyoomi feels the weight draped over him shift. Drowsy almond eyes look up at him, like seeing the world for the first time, overflowing with affection and fondness. Kiyoomi’s heart thumps in a somersault. 

_“Thank ya, Omi, for taking care of me. For loving me.”_

Atsumu’s mouth stretches into a big, dopey smile. This time, Kiyoomi’s heart stops beating altogether. He reaches out for Atsumu’s hand, bringing it closer, brushing his lips over each knuckle. 

“Thank you, for letting me love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far, I hope your panties are still on ;) 
> 
> Feel free to scream at me on twitter @MissesMiya
> 
> See you soon ✨ Lin


End file.
